Maeji’s POV

            Do I tell Dongwoon that I kissed Junhyung? Or do I just keep this to myself? Do I tell Dongwoon that he helped me get over Junhyung? Or would he just think that I used him? How the hell did I get myself into this mess?

            I held my phone in my hand with Dongwoon’s number on the screen. I couldn’t decide whether to text or call him.

            How would the conversation even go?

            “Dongwoon-ah, I have something to tell you,” I’d say in a nervous voice.

            “Alright, what is it?” he’d ask in a sweet voice.

            “I kissed Junhyung.” Then I’d hang up.

            Or if I texted him then he might think that I was being a coward.

            Should I do both? Just call, tell him quickly and apologize, then text another apology? I guess that could work. . .right?

            Before I could talk myself out of it I pressed call.

            He picked up on the third ring.

            “Hi honey,” he said. Damn it, why did he have to sound so nice?

            “I kissed Junhyung. . . I’m really sorry.” Click.

            *I know I’m a horrible girlfriend for kissing someone else. You don’t need to accept my apology, but I just want you to know that I’m sorry.* Send.

            My heart was racing nervously, but now it was slowing down.

            I put my phone underneath a couch pillow and went to make something to eat. I opened the fridge and the pantry and realized that there was nothing to eat. I don’t usually eat at home – which is something I should probably stop since I barely have enough money to pay the bills – and the ramen from yesterday was the last edible thing I had.

            I closed the doors and went into my room. I had to think about how I was going to live without a job. I didn’t want that money – my cousins could have it, they were closer with Grandpa anyway. Maybe I could sell the clothes I didn’t wear anymore?

            I went into my closet and started going through what I didn’t wear. I got down the boxes on the shelf above my clothes and put them on the floor. Most of them had stuff from my old house in it, but a few had clothes that I didn’t plan on wearing again.

            In one box, I found my high school yearbooks and my first concepts. Most were for me and Chae, a few were for my mom, and some were for Seomin and Junhyung. Underneath those were an old photo album and two small journals.

            I looked through the album. There was a picture of the four of us on the cover I opened it. The first pages were pictures of just Mom and Dad, a few from when they were dating but most were from the wedding and during pregnancies.

Then it was Seomin’s section. His school pictures from kindergarten to his final year of high school, birthdays, sports pictures, some from dances where he posed with his girlfriend at the time, and others were of just of him and Junhyung. Then it was his graduation pictures. In middle school it was the three of us, but for high school it was just us too, the Cho siblings.

            Then it was mine. I had my birthday and school pictures too and there shots of Chae and me or us with Junhyung and Seomin. Then there were pictures of my mom and me in the hospital. Seomin was in a few; he could only be there every so often but tried his best. Finally, there were my graduation pictures. Most of them were just Seomin and me. Everything got blurry, but with a blink it cleared and teardrops stained the pages.

            There were still so many pages to be filled. . .

            I put the album down and looked at the two journals. One was blue, the other was pink. I bought them for when my mom was in the hospital.

            “Umma,” I said and handed her the pink journal. “Here.”

            “What’s this for?” she asked.

            “For your time here. It’s small because I don’t think you’ll be here that long.” Actually, it’s because I don’t want you to be here that long.

            She smiled at me. “I’ll start filling it then. And when they’re filled, I want to read yours and I want you to read mine.”

            “Alright,” I agreed with a smile and kissed her head before leaving.

            I stared at the journals.It’s better that you didn’t read mine, you’d die of heartbreak if you did.

            But what went through your head at the hospital? Do I want to know?